


That Old Black Dog Nipping At Your Heels

by flawedamythyst



Series: Winterhawk Tumblr ficlets [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Negative Thoughts, Self-Hatred, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 09:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16489988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: There's a voice in Clint's head that hates him. Some days it's louder than others.





	That Old Black Dog Nipping At Your Heels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Villainny (Nny)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nny/gifts).



Some mornings he just woke up with the voice in his head sneering at him.

He looked in the mirror when he was brushing his teeth and saw only the nose that had been broken too many times, the chipped tooth that he’d never got around to fixing because he was too damn lazy to make a dental appointment, and the lines creasing his skin as he got older and older, with nothing to show for it but wasted time. He went to get dressed but nothing was clean. He hadn’t done any laundry because he was too bone-idle for that as well.

It only got worse when he went out into the sitting room and looked at his tiny, messy apartment, and all the signs that he wasn’t able to function like a goddamn adult. Shit, he was nearly forty, how the hell was he living alone with nothing to show for decades of stumbling through life but a collection of bows that took up half the room?

There was nothing to eat in the fridge except cold pizza, and it was a good thing he didn’t mind his coffee black because the milk had gone strange and lumpy.

He took both pizza and coffee over to the couch, juggling a slice in his mouth at the same time which, of course, ended with it falling, sauce-side down, on the carpet. Some trained assassin he was if he couldn’t even manage eating without making a mess like a toddler.  
God, how was he living like this? Shouldn’t he have managed to move on from living like the laziest kind of student, wallowing in trash?

His phone pinged. _I can’t believe you did this for me. Thank you so much._

Tony must have shown Bucky the part of the Tower rooftop Clint had asked him to fix up as a garden-cum-sniper nest, before explaining that yes, it was possible for somewhere to be both. Clint had told him to take Bucky up there while he wasn’t around because he didn’t know how to cope with being around people when they received presents from him. That involved a whole level of social skills that he’d never developed.

A second text came through. _You better be wearing your aids, I’m about to call._

Clint had his hearing aids in, because it was bad enough when he felt like this without everything being muffled so that the derision from inside his mind was the only thing he could hear clearly. He kept the phone in his hand, debating not answering so that he could avoid all the emotion, but when the picture of Bucky’s scowling face came up over _Snugglebunny Calling_ , he felt a sharp rush of need to hear his voice.

“You’re the best,” said Bucky as soon as he picked up. “I seriously can’t get over how perfect this place is.”

Clint shrugged, even though Bucky couldn’t see him. “It’s bullshit that you’re still under house arrest,” he said. “Even with how big the Tower is, I figured you could use your own little scrap of outdoors.”

“The wind’s tangling my hair already,” said Bucky, with satisfaction. “You’ll have to get over here so you can run your fingers through it and sort it out.”

“Fuck, yes,” said Clint. “Give me an hour, I’ll be there to pet you all you want.”

Bucky snorted. “Good thing Tony put privacy protocols on this place then, because that’s gonna turn pretty heavy, pretty fast.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” said Clint. “See you soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” said Bucky, and hung up.

Clint stood up, trying to remember where he’d left his shoes, and immediately stood in the pizza sauce stain on the carpet.

_That was your last pair of clean socks, you useless idiot_ , said the voice in his head.

Clint ignored it because yeah, okay, maybe some parts of his life were a bit of a mess, but his boyfriend was Bucky fucking Barnes and he seemed to think Clint was pretty damn awesome, so he must have something going for him, even if he couldn’t always see it for himself.

****

After a few years had passed, they had a routine for it.

Clint shuffled out of the bedroom, rubbing at his messy hair. It looked like he’d taken a nap, which wasn’t a huge surprise after the late-night battle with Hydra yesterday, and then getting up first thing to go to debriefing. Even Bucky hadn’t managed to find the energy for more than lounging with a book on the sofa once they’d got back.

“I feel like shit,” Clint admitted.

It had taken them a while to agree on a code for this that didn't make Clint feel like a whiny idiot. (His words, which Bucky had objected to without success.) Hell, it had taken even longer before that to get Clint to agree that they needed a code in the first place, but Bucky had made it very clear that he wasn’t going to be talked out of helping his boyfriend with this.

Even after settling on something vaguely ambiguous, Clint still always sounded tentative when he said it, as if he were expecting Bucky to just turn around and say that it was because he _was_ shit.

Bucky put down his book and opened his arms, and Clint crawled into them, sprawling out over him and hiding his face in Bucky’s neck. Bucky stroked a hand over his back in silence for a few minutes, until the tension held in Clint's muscles had started to melt away, and then he started talking.

“Last week, in the AIM base. We were jogging down that corridor and you stopped dead, because you'd spotted that hidden door behind the cabinets. That was incredible. How the hell did you see the tiny clues that it was there while we were moving so fast? It's not like we even knew to look, but if you hadn't that whole mission would have been a bust, and all those people would still be imprisoned.”

Clint made a vaguely sceptical sound, which Bucky ignored.

“Plus you took out the head guy with that incredible shot. Some of the shots you make are just mind-blowing, I get some pretty inappropriate thoughts whenever you make one. One day you're gonna hit something impossible and I'm gonna end up just coming in my pants, which is going to be super-awkward to explain.”

Clint snorted a laugh, which was a much better reaction, and Bucky got himself back on track. He'd already told Clint at length just how incredible his aim was, this worked better when he talked about one of Clint’s less obvious qualities, something he’d never bothered thinking of as a good thing about himself.

Occasionally, Bucky wondered if he’d ever be able to persuade Clint that everything about him was a good thing, because it made up who he was, and who he was was just about perfect, but most of the time he acknowledged that trying to achieve impossibilities was more Steve’s thing.

“I just don’t get how you’re able to see so much in one glance,” he continued. “We go out and I can see you looking around, and I know you’ve seen more in that brief moment than I will the whole time we’re wherever we are. It’s astounding.”

Clint shifted in his arms. “Laying it on a bit thick,” he muttered.

“I’m really not,” said Bucky. “I don’t ever. Why would I bother exaggerating how great my boyfriend is when he’s already so incredible as to be basically unbelievable?”

Clint shifted again but he didn’t protest that. Bucky leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I love you,” he said. “You’re awesome. Tell the voice in your head it can fuck off if it doesn’t think the same.”

“I think it’s gone off in a sulk,” said Clint. Bucky allowed himself a smirk of accomplishment because, take that, Clint’s inner demons. Bucky wasn’t letting them get the upper hand, not when all it took was a few minutes of talking to Clint about how wonderful he was. And, to be honest, it’s not as if Bucky wouldn’t be doing that anyway.

“Awesome,” he said. “Want me to make you coffee, and then we can watch _Dog Cops_?”

“Yes, of course, both of those sound great,” said Clint. He didn’t move to let Bucky up though. If anything, his grip grew tighter. “Just, give it a couple of minutes?”

“Sure thing,” said Bucky, stroking a hand over Clint’s back again. He’d happily lie here holding him all afternoon, if that was what Clint needed.


End file.
